


You Might Fall (and Find the Love of Your Life)

by rendawnie



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Carnival, First Kiss, First Meetings, Flirting, M/M, Making Out, Secrets, Swearing, Tarot, Vampire Mark Lee, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-16
Updated: 2018-10-16
Packaged: 2019-08-03 00:03:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16315217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rendawnie/pseuds/rendawnie
Summary: Every year around this time, the carnival rolls into town and stays until the week after Halloween, open every night until all the patrons have emptied out. It smells like home here, even though Mark barely remembers what his first home was like. The breeze wafts around him, carrying the scent of buttered popcorn and cotton candy with it, and Mark breathes it in long and deep. Well, he doesn’t really breathe anymore, per se, but he can fake it well enough, he supposes. It’s enough.





	You Might Fall (and Find the Love of Your Life)

**Author's Note:**

> This story is a prequel to [Date With the Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15321888), and a requested companion piece/continuation of a headcanon I originally posted [here](https://ncth0ts.tumblr.com/post/175599944667/the-first-time-mark-and-donghyuck-made-out)!

Chenle stuffs an entire funnel cake in his mouth, groaning in pleasure at the sweet taste. “Oh, my god. I just want to keep eating this forever,” he says dramatically. Mark decides not to mention the crumbs flying out from between his lips as he talks, shaking his head in disgust.

“I don’t know why you even got it,” Mark sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets and turning his face to the night sky, inhaling the cool autumn air. “You’re just gonna yak it up in an hour and want blood instead.”

Chenle shrugs, still chewing. “Yeah, but. It’ll be a great fuckin’ hour,” he reasons.

Mark watches him ruin his stomach some more, rolling his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re older than me, and yet still such a moron.”

Chenle finally manages to swallow the dessert, grinning with proud delight. “Two hundred and twenty-six years older,” he reminds Mark unnecessarily, for the millionth time.

“Uh huh,” Mark murmurs back, distracted now by the lights of the ferris wheel above them. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be heading home with the dads?”

Chenle makes a small noise of dismay. “They’re probably somewhere making out like a couple of lovesick teenagers,” he mutters, even as he’s yawning into his hand. “God, I hate having to live in a sixteen year old’s body for all eternity. I always get nicked for curfew when cops are around.”

Mark shrugs, ruffling his accidental brother’s hair. “Sorry, dude. Should have waited an extra year or two to die.”

Chenle’s about to answer him, undoubtedly with deep sarcasm, which is his native language, but he’s cut off by a familiar voice coming from somewhere close by.

“Chenle! Come on, let’s go!” Taeyong calls, and both Mark and Chenle whip their heads up, searching for the source. Mark spots Taeyong leaning against the carousel gate, holding hands with Doyoung. The perfect picture of domesticity, except that if you looked closer, you’d see the pale skin. If you touched either Doyoung or Taeyong, you’d feel how cold they always are. Too cold to be alive, permanent dark bags etched under their eyes that even the best makeup job can’t quite hide.

Still, they’re pretty cute together, and Mark’s never been able to deny it.

Chenle gives up, shoulders sagging in obedient defeat as he takes a few steps away from Mark.

“You comin’?” Doyoung asks Mark, and Mark thinks about it for a second. He could go home, keep working on his sleep schedule. He’s been slowly trying to nudge it towards something vaguely normal for the last thirty years or so. It’s not really working, and it probably won’t, but Mark doesn’t quit easily.

He could stay here for a while longer, as the booths and rides at the carnival begin to wind down for the night. Maybe watch the fireworks that go off at closing time. Maybe indulge in a fried apple pie and have his own hour of food heaven, like Chenle’s doing right now. Either way, Mark’s a bit too restless to call it a night, so he shakes his head in Doyoung’s direction, and the older vampire accepts his answer easily enough, wrapping one arm around Chenle as he falls into their little undead huddle, keeping the other around Taeyong’s waist protectively, even though Taeyong doesn’t really need protecting from anyone, despite always looking a little too lost and innocent for his many, many years.

Mark watches them go, and then he turns on his heel, wandering back through the carnival grounds slowly. He likes it here, always has. Every year around this time, the carnival rolls into town and stays until the week after Halloween, open every night until all the patrons have emptied out. It smells like home here, even though Mark barely remembers what his first home was like. The breeze wafts around him, carrying the scent of buttered popcorn and cotton candy with it, and Mark breathes it in long and deep. Well, he doesn’t really _breathe_ anymore, per se, but he can fake it well enough, he supposes. It’s enough.

He keeps walking, towards the back of the grounds, where he hasn’t been yet tonight. Chenle only really likes the carnival for the rides, and Mark hates them, but he’s usually in charge of Chenle, so that’s where they always end up. The back of the carnival is where all the shops and booths are, filled with unusual people peddling unusual wares, and Mark enjoys that far more, even if his wallet doesn’t.

As he ventures into the deep recesses of the booths, where most of the shops have already shut down for the evening, Mark hears two voices talking back and forth. They seem to be the only two voices around, and Mark made sure he ate before he left the house, so he wouldn’t be tempted to pounce on any unsuspecting carnival-goers tonight, so he walks towards them slowly, trying to look normal. Trying to _be_ normal.

He rounds one last corner, and then he sees them.

Two teenage boys, maybe only a little younger than Mark will look for all eternity, sit behind a table, adorned with a purple, crushed velvet cloth and a totally fake crystal ball that Mark can tell is just a re-purposed snow globe.

 _TAROT READINGS BY HAECHAN,_ the sign hanging off the table yells. There’s music coming from somewhere, maybe a phone, but instead of the New Age, wibbly-wobbly music one would expect from this sort of operation, it’s Drake. Mark is intrigued.

“Three hundred and forty thousand won. And a handful of change some guy left as a tip,” one of the boys is saying, writing carefully into a notebook, a small stack of money next to him. Next to him, the other boy hums in response, and Mark’s eyes go over to him, and he can’t seem to make them leave.

Mark doesn’t know what he expected.  He assumes this must be the Haechan in question, because the other kid just seems like he’s there to be responsible and keep track of the intake. Mark doesn’t know what he expected, but he definitely didn’t expect to be nearly knocked off his feet, the place in his chest where his heart used to beat suddenly filled with a distinct _ache._

The boy is beautiful, Mark thinks. He’s got this gorgeous, dark gold skin, topped off with a mess of flame-red hair. His hands are wrapped around his phone as he scrolls through it, a bored expression on his face and his feet propped up on the table in front of him. He’s dressed casually, in a hoodie and jeans and a t-shirt, and not at all like someone Mark would trust with a tarot reading, but he’s still intrigued. He might be a lot more than intrigued, actually, but that’s stupid. He doesn’t even know the guy.

Yet.

Mark steps out of the shadows, hoping it comes off as a natural entrance, rather than the movie-Dracula-esque way he _feels_ like he enters every situation without even trying.

“Hi,” he says as he does, so he doesn’t scare anyone. He doesn’t want to scare this one.

The kid counting the money glances up briefly, before lowering his eyes back to his work. “We’re closed,” he announces, with a finality Mark can tell is meant to stick.

He lets his eyes drift back to the other boy, quirking one eyebrow up. Asking some question he hopes will be understood, because even Mark’s not sure what it is.

The boy stares at him curiously, moving his legs off the table and setting his phone down. “Don’t be rude, Injunnie…” he murmurs, and _fuck_ if Mark isn’t completely caught off guard by _that voice,_ somehow low and high and husky and sweet all at once. His feet keep moving forward until he’s right in front of the table, looking down at the two of them silently. Even if he’d thought of something to say by now, Mark’s not sure he’d be able to get it out of his mouth.

“Do you want a reading?” the guy asks, making a grand little sweep of his hand to indicate the sign on the table, which, Mark notices for the first time, also includes rates.

“ _Basic readings, twenty thousand won,_ ” Mark mumbles to himself, trying like hell to remember how much cash he has on him. “ _Love forecast, thirty thousand won_. Um…”

Next to maybe-Haechan, the accountant groans. “Come on, Hyuckie. It’s late. I wanna go home.”

Mark thinks he sounds a lot like Chenle does, when he gets tired and whiny.

“Then go home, Renjun,” the object of Mark’s possibly ill-advised staring murmurs, waving a dismissive hand at his friend. “I’m Haechan,” he confirms next, holding out a hand to Mark, and Mark is so fucking _charmed_ he doesn’t know what to do with himself. People Haechan’s age, and Mark’s outward age, don’t shake hands anymore, and Mark misses it.

He sticks out one hand too, willing it to not be ice cold, as if that would work. If Haechan finds it chilly, he doesn’t say anything. He just shakes Mark’s hand while Renjun watches, looking vaguely disgusted by the whole situation.

Finally, Renjun throws down his pencil. “I _can’t_ go home. I’m the money counter, remember?” he sighs, taking off his snapback and running a hand through his hair before he plants it back on his head again.

Haechan shrugs. “S’on the house. Go home, Injun.”

A long silence passes then, where Renjun gapes at Haechan and Haechan stares him down, until he finally makes some sort of noncommittal noise and gets up.

“All right. I’ll see you later, I guess,” he says, gathering the money box and his notebook and jacket. “Just, um… I have my phone, y’know, all the time, just call me if anything… if you need…”

Haechan cuts him off, and he’s talking to Renjun, but his eyes are still on Mark. Mark is used to making people wilt with just his gaze, but this boy is really putting him to shame, tonight, and Mark doesn’t even think he’s trying.

“I’ll be _fine,_ Injunnie. Don’t wait up,” Haechan says, and Renjun nods, once at him and once at Mark, and then he’s gone, arms full of all his things, and they’re alone.

Haechan gives Mark a little smile, biting his lip. “Sit down,” he says softly, cocking his head towards the chairs on Mark’s side of the table.

Mark sits.

“He called you ‘Hyuckie’,” Mark says without thinking, as if that’s even important right now.

Haechan blushes, scratching at the back of his neck. “Um. Yeah. My name’s… my name’s Donghyuck. Haechan is… it’s just for show, I guess.”

Mark folds his hands in his lap to keep himself from trying to reach across the table and take Haechan's hand in his own again. “Which do you prefer?” he asks instead, because this line of conversation seems safe.

Haechan shrugs. “Either’s fine. Most of my good friends call me Donghyuck.”

Mark smiles. “Okay, Donghyuck. I’m Mark.”

Donghyuck blushes harder. “I’m sorry about Renjun, Mark. He’s… he’s a little protective, I guess.”

Mark debates with himself for a few seconds, then decides to just ask. “He’s your boyfriend?”

Donghyuck snorts out a laugh. “ _God_ , no. Best friend for like, fucking ever. And my roommate.”

Mark feels more relieved than he probably should, to hear that.

Donghyuck reaches into the pocket of his hoodie, producing a small velvet drawstring bag and pulling out a deck of tarot cards. “Which reading do you want?” he questions.

Mark frowns. “Oh, you really don’t have to do that. Or, let me pay you,” he insists, but Donghyuck just shakes his head.

“It’s after hours and my bank is gone. I’m not allowed to take money unless Renjun is around, I tend to spend it on stupid shit before it’s even home,” Donghyuck says. It makes Mark laugh, which makes Donghyuck laugh. Mark likes how their laughter sounds together.

Donghyuck purses his lips together, considering Mark for a moment. “How about a love reading?” he suggests, and Mark’s blushing all over again.

“Um… okay,” Mark agrees slowly. “I mean, I don’t really… I don’t have much of a… love… y’know, life, or whatever…” he admits regretfully. It’s sort of difficult to start and maintain relationships, as a hundred-year-old vampire. Not that he’ll be telling Donghyuck that last bit, if he can help it.   

Donghyuck clicks his tongue. “That’s a shame,” he says, and then he separates a small stack of cards from the deck and shuffles them so quickly Mark almost gets dizzy. Donghyuck spreads the cards out in front of Mark face down. “Choose eight.”

Donghyuck is being terribly efficient about this, and honestly? Mark appreciates it. He doesn’t think he could have handled super-mystical-mode Donghyuck. He likes this more real, down-to-earth approach to tarot.

Without really thinking about it, Mark slides eight random cards out of their spots and towards Donghyuck, keeping them face down. Donghyuck concentrates on turning them over one by one as Mark watches.

“Wheel of Fortune… The Sun…”

Mark has to stop himself from saying something stupid, something like, _You mean, you?_ He’s pretty sure he and Donghyuck aren’t quite there yet, despite what his cold, dead heart is telling him.

“Death…” Donghyuck is murmuring, and if Mark could breathe anymore, he’d have stopped right then and there either way. He hopes his involuntary reaction to the very telling card isn’t too obvious. Donghyuck doesn’t seem to notice, or else he doesn’t care, because he moves right along to the other cards, flipping them over in order.

“The Chariot… The Lovers…”

Mark tries to laugh, but he’s nervous, so it comes out as more of a honk. Donghyuck glances up with teasing amusement in his big eyes. “Come on, Mark. What are we, twelve?” he sasses, and Mark wants to sass back, wants to say something like _yeah, a HUNDRED and twelve,_ but he doesn’t, so Donghyuck goes on.

“The Star… The High Priestess… and The Empress,” Donghyuck finishes. “Okay, cool. Now…” he says, turning the eight cards to face Mark, “choose three of these, while you think about things you want in a… girlfriend?” Donghyuck questions, not exactly meeting Mark’s eyes.

Mark feels the corner of his mouth twitch up into a slightly panicked smile. “Boyfriend,” he corrects, focusing on some spot just above Donghyuck’s forehead, and he’s gratified by Donghyuck’s small response, a fainter than the others before it blush that splashes across the bridge of his nose and disappears just as quickly.

“Boyfriend,” he agrees, resting his hands on the table in front of him. “Choose.”

Mark points to The Sun without hesitation, and Donghyuck separates it from the rest. “You know, Haechan means _full sun_ ,” he says quietly, so quietly Mark almost misses it, but he doesn’t. He lets out another anxious laugh, and they continue. He chooses The Lovers, because he doesn’t know much about tarot, but it seems obvious, and The High Priestess.

Donghyuck pushes the three to the side, clearing his throat. “Okay, now choose two more, that make you think of your love life.”

Mark wants to laugh and say something witty and self-deprecating, like, “ _Hmm, where are the One Big Joke and An Astounding Failure cards?_ ”, but instead he picks The Chariot and The Empress, just because. He doesn’t really care about this reading, after all. He just wants to be here, with Donghyuck.

“Okay, lastly,” Donghyuck starts. “Two cards from the ones left, that remind you of disappointment in your love life.”

_Maybe he COULD bust out that attempt at humor at his own expense, after all..._

Mark chooses Death, which is both a blessing and a constant disappointment, when applied to himself, and Wheel of Fortune.

Donghyuck rubs his hands together, eyes flitting over the spread in front of him. “All right, then. Ready?”

Mark’s not ready, not at all, not for this or for Donghyuck or for anything, but he nods, because he can fake it well enough to get by.

Donghyuck taps a finger on the first trio of cards Mark chose. “So, you’ve been pretty low on confidence lately, as far as love goes,” he begins, and Mark thinks he has no clue how long _lately’s_ been for him. “It seems like you need to get back in touch with what you _really_ love, what like, _super_ inspires you,” Donghyuck goes on, and his eyes are sparkling now because he’s in his element, and Mark is falling _hard,_ maybe.

“There’s definitely some past issues working against your confidence,” Donghyuck notes, still looking at the cards and not at Mark. “Betrayal, trouble trusting again…” he says, and Mark is all set to verbalize his wholehearted agreement, when Donghyuck says, “But…”

_But…_

“You’ll have good luck this month,” Donghyuck continues, and _oh, okay,_ this is the part of the reading where Donghyuck says some vague crap that hooks his customers in, keeps them satisfied when the rest of their readings are a total downer. Mark gets it. And honestly? It works. It’s _working._

“There’s a happy event coming, Mark, and you won’t be ready for it, or expecting it,” Donghyuck tells him, and then he looks right at Mark and gives him a smile that’s so dazzling Mark nearly passes out, and _fuck,_ he hopes he gets a chance to tell Donghyuck that _this,_ right now, is the happiest event he’s had in a long, long time, and he was absolutely not expecting it.

“You may not be _expecting_ it, exactly, but you’ve been thinking about it for a long time,” Donghyuck clarifies, and he really has no idea. Mark kind of wants to tell him. But like… later. Much later.

Donghyuck moves on to the second pair of cards, considering them while he forms his thoughts. “So, you’ll meet someone you have stuff in common with,” Donghyuck announces. Mark doesn’t know yet if he and Donghyuck have anything in common, really, but he figures Drake is as good a place to start as any. He makes a mental note to ask Donghyuck if the choice in music was his, because it’s all he’s got to work with, at the moment.

“It’ll be a charismatic person…” Donhyuck says, glancing up again, and Mark can’t quite stop himself fast enough. He mumbles out a breathy _yeah_ , and Donghyuck smiles again, but it’s smaller, more shy. Mark likes it just as much. “...who’ll arrive in your life unexpectedly.”

Everything about tonight has been, _is_ unexpected, Mark thinks. He expected to wander around the carnival alone for twenty minutes or so, get bored, and go home, where he would also be bored, but maybe Chenle would want to play video games or something. Not a bad night, really, but this is better.

“And, to sort of recap and finish up the reading,” Donghyuck goes on, looking down at the last two cards--

“Is Death a bad card?” Mark stutters, his words staccato and sharp in the air between them. He really wants to know, honestly. He’d taken one look at the card and seen himself looking back, and he wasn’t sure at all if it was good or bad or indifferent, but he wants to find out.

Donghyuck chuckles. “No, not at all,” he says, and Mark’s nonexistent heart swells. “It’s actually my favorite card.”

Mark blinks. “Why?”

Donghyuck traces the edges of the card with one finger, thinking. “Because it’s misunderstood, I guess. People think it’s evil and that it means bad things are coming, but…” He sighs, sitting back in his chair a little. “It’s also a sign of new beginnings. The death, so to speak, of the past, of the influence of the past. The opening of a whole new path that you can choose to follow.” He digs his teeth into his bottom lip. Mark wants to kiss him so badly. “I like that.”

“Oh,” Mark says, but he smiles at Donghyuck and he thinks Donghyuck understands.

“Anyway…” Donghyuck says, refocusing on the reading, “The Wheel of Fortune and Death. This is sort of… you’re looking for a change. Maybe a change in the way you look at life?”

 _Such as it is,_ Mark thinks.

“It’s possible that the change you’re looking for might be finding someone to experience life with,” Donghyuck continues. Mark bites his tongue until he tastes blood, and he swallows it down, hoping Donghyuck doesn’t notice.

“Someone you can count on,” Donghyuck is saying. “It’s also possible that you could find this person pretty quickly, and that it’ll have a huge effect on you.”

Mark is thinking about it, thinking about all the things Donghyuck told him and how he read the cards like he was born to do it, he’s thinking about Donghyuck in _general_ even though he’s right across the table and he could be _talking_ to Donghyuck, except he’s bad at that, and--

He’s shaken out of his thoughts by a sharp clap, and when Mark looks up, Donghyuck’s gathering the cards up and putting them back in the small velvet bag lovingly, and then he looks at Mark with something unreadable in his eyes and says, “Wanna drive me home?”

*

Mark helps Donghyuck clean up his booth for the night, and it turns out he doesn’t have to do much talking, because Donghyuck does enough of it for them both. Mark likes that.

He finds out that Donghyuck’s parents aren’t in the picture, that he’s lived with Renjun’s family since he was a kid and now they’ve moved out on their own and are going to the local college together.

He finds out that Donghyuck’s majoring in vocal performance, and is treated to a small sample of Donghyuck’s singing after that as they walk through the carnival towards the parking lot, and it’s enough to knock the wind clean out of Mark.

It’s enough for everything to make sense, for everything to fall into place when Donghyuck pushes Mark against the door in the backseat of Mark’s car and climbs on top of him shamelessly, his soft, needy little moans floating in and out of Mark’s ears as they make out right in front of Donghyuck’s building.

Donghyuck started this. He waited until Mark had pulled to a stop at the curb, and then Donghyuck got out and slid into the backseat, and Mark was still frozen in place until Donghyuck tilted forward and whispered in his ear, _c’mere,_ and so he did.

Now he’s here on his back, head bumping into the car door every few minutes, and Donghyuck is the best fucking kisser Mark’s ever seen in a hundred years, and also, he’s trying to _kill_ him, apparently.

Of course, Donghyuck has no way of knowing that Mark’s fangs tend to present themselves, tend to become a problem at the most inconvenient times, namely, when he’s trying to be a gentleman and not let Donghyuck know how fucking turned on he is by everything that’s happening. How close he is to flipping their positions and _really_ going for it.

He doesn’t want to do that, because he kind of likes how Donghyuck knows what he wants and goes and gets it.

He likes that right now, it’s _him._

Donghyuck wants him and Donghyuck’s in his lap now, sucking on Mark’s neck and nearly _whining_ with pleasure, and Mark’s hands are everywhere. They’re in Donghyuck’s hair and running down his spine, cupping his ass through his jeans and Mark is getting so hard that he _knows_ Donghyuck can feel it, and--

“You want my phone number?” Donghyuck asks suddenly, breathlessly, shoving Mark to the side with one arm and settling into the backseat next to him. If Donghyuck wasn’t still sort of panting and generally disheveled looking, shirt pushed halfway up his chest and lips swollen and shiny, Mark would have thought he’d dreamed the last half an hour. Maybe the whole night.

“Uh,” Mark starts, trying to make his brain catch up with everything that’s happening. Donghyuck is like a tornado, beautiful and dangerous and moving from thing to thing with equal amounts of carefree breeze. Mark just might be in love.

“Yeah,” he says finally. “Yeah. I… I don’t have a pen, though…” he says, feeling his shirt pockets automatically even though he knows nothing’s there, and Donghyuck probably knows too, given how close they just were.

Donghyuck chuckles. “It’s 2018, Mark. Gimme your phone, I’ll put it in.”

Mark blinks. “I don’t have a phone.”

Donghyuck stares at him like he’s just sprouted three extra heads, and all four of them are completely insane. “I’m sorry?”

Mark shrugs, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, when in fact, he knows that he’s _definitely_ the weird one, here. “I just… haven’t gotten around to it, I guess,” he says lamely, knowing it’s not enough.

Donghyuck narrows his eyes, squinting at Mark like he’s trying to figure him out. Mark is always too transparent and far too inscrutable, all at once, so good fucking luck to him, he thinks.

Finally, Donghyuck rolls his eyes and mutters a quick _Jesus Christ_ under his breath, leaning over the front seat to dig through the bag he’d packed up back at the carnival and brought with him.

Mark waits, trying not to stare at Donghyuck’s perfect ass. He fails.

Donghyuck flops back down, holding something that looks like a pen between his teeth and shoving the sleeve of Mark’s shirt up his arm. He uncaps the pen and starts to write the numbers up Mark’s forearm carefully, one by one, and Mark realizes it’s actually Donghyuck’s eyeliner halfway through it. It makes him giggle, because Donghyuck is so fucking _cute_ on top of being hot, and, with his head still down, Donghyuck laughs too.

“Shut up. It’s all I got,” he says, and Mark falls a little more.

Donghyuck leaves after that, giving Mark one last kiss on the cheek before he’s running up the walkway to the front door of his apartment building. Mark watches him go, waits until he’s inside safely before putting the car back into drive and heading for home, himself.

Taeyong and Doyoung are still awake when he gets in, cuddled on the couch watching some sappy rom-com Mark has literally no interest in. He drops his shoes by the back door and his keys in the kitchen, running a hand through his makeout-mussed hair as he passes the couple on the couch quietly.

He’s almost to the hallway his bedroom’s down when Mark thinks of something, doubling back towards the couch.

“Lemme borrow your phone, hyung,” Mark says, poking Taeyong in his skinny ribs until he acquiesces, digging the small object out of his pocket and shoving it towards Mark so he’ll go away.

It takes Mark almost five minutes to figure out how to save Donghyuck’s number, and another ten to locate the messaging app and hunt and peck in a text. When he’s done, he notices it’s riddled with errors and misspellings, so Mark tries again. Twice.

Finally, it’s good enough.

 

_I borrowed my roommate’s phone so I could tell you goodnight. I had a great time. Maybe we can go out sometime soon?_

 

Mark presses send, hoping Donghyuck is still awake, that he doesn’t disturb him. It appears he hasn’t, because Donghyuck’s response only takes twelve seconds, which is embarrassing, comparatively.

 

_You know where to find me xx_

 

It only takes an hour or two for Mark to find Donghyuck in his dreams.


End file.
